


Pressed Wildflowers

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Diary/Journal, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Interracial Relationship, Post-Assassin's Creed III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day while his LI is out of the manor, Connor happens to find her personal journal and out of curiosity reads a few of the entries. Feeling guilty, he then leaves a little something for her on the last blank page as a way of telling her the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressed Wildflowers

Spring had always been Madeleine’s favourite season and was just one of many reasons why she enjoyed living in the Davenport Homestead. Massachusetts Bay summers were harsh, winters even harsher, and autumns, while pretty with its warm colours, left a rather melancholic feeling within her. Madeleine felt much more lively, energetic, yet also at peace during spring. The whole world seemed to regain its light and warmth.

Connor liked spring as well but for his own reasons; most of which admittedly had to do with Madeleine. Before she came into his life (rather unexpectedly), he barely had any time to really appreciate all the good and beautiful things that came with the season. He was always so preoccupied with current affairs while doubt and other negative thoughts tried to overwhelm his mind. The Homestead along with its many wonderful inhabitants helped lessen his internal burdens but even after many years, it wasn’t enough to make them disappear forever.

After the war and after Madeleine moved into the manor, Connor did everything he could to spend as much time as possible with her. One thing they loved to do together was taking long walks in the frontier along riverbanks and trails while picking up various plants as the hours passed by. While he already knew a fair amount when it came to botany, Connor learned a lot from Madeleine. This included what could be eaten or used for medicinal purposes, what was poisonous, and of course which flowers were her personal favourites.

But like him, Madeleine’s days were very busy. There was certainly no shortage of injuries or sudden illnesses amongst the Homesteaders as well as Connor’s own recruits. Whenever Dr. White and Diana were busy, Madeleine was always there for those who needed her skills as a healer. At the end of most evenings, she dragged her exhausted body upstairs and collapsed onto their bed, quickly falling asleep after curling up against Connor’s chest.

When she wasn’t working at home, she traveled to Boston and even New York to run certain errands. Early one April morning, Connor made himself comfortable in the library and began studying up on the histories of different regional assassin bureaus. He already knew the day was going to be a quiet, uneventful one for him. Though it didn’t take long for him to notice Madeleine rushing down the hallway in what looked to be a very stressful manner. Despite having barely made a single dent in his research, Connor placed it off to the side and followed after her.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. Madeleine spun around, her fingers interwoven in her thick curly hair, which was half tied half loose.

“Good morning, Connor!” She responded with one of her usual bright smiles. Madeleine tried to make her expression and tone of her voice seem cheerful but the way she carried herself said otherwise. Connor sighed as he trailed behind her into the kitchen. That was always like Madeleine, hiding whatever anxiety or personal strain she was feeling behind a few unconvincing smiles and a quick “I’m fine”.

“Sorry I could not join you for breakfast, but it is going to be a very busy day for me. I have to deliver a fresh batch of hartshorn salts to Dr. White’s clinic, and then I need to visit that new apothecary in Boston to see if they sell anything I could use in my own remedies and medicines…” While Madeleine continued to speak at nearly a mile a minute, she hurried around the room, gathering up everything she needed. Still moving and still talking, she stuffed it all into a large handmade bag, one that had seen better days.

“I also heard about that group of trappers who were mauled by a grizzly bear last night. They are being held at an inn two miles outside of Boston and I know you do not like it when I come home really late but I want to see if they need a second helping hand, perhaps with surgeries-“

“Madeleine…” Connor replied, carefully taking hold of her arms before moving his hands up to rest on her flustered cheeks. They stared at each other until he gave Madeleine a gentle smile and helped finish tying up her hair.

“Sorry…” She muttered, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I try not to become so… rattled when there is much that needs to be done, but…”

“There is no need for apologies. I am glad that you want to help others so much, I always have been. But please do not overwork yourself. Speaking from experience, it will only make you feel ill.”

Madeleine sighed quietly in agreement; Connor didn’t need to tell her of all people twice. “You will not mind if I come home late tonight?”

“Of course not. Just remember to stay safe.”

“And what about you? You can’t just coop yourself up in that study.”

“I doubt it will be for the entire day.”

“That’s good. Fresh air does wonders.” Madeleine smiled before giving Connor a kiss. He returned it, bending down slightly so that she could reach his lips. “Get plenty of rest as well. Also, you do not have to stay awake and wait for me to return.”

Madeleine then made sure she had all her belongings, said a quick but loving goodbye, and rushed towards the front door. Connor watched as she left, staying in the kitchen. Of course he was going to stay awake for her; he always did. Grabbing an apple from the fruit basket, he made his way back up to the study.

The next couple of hours seemed to go by at a sluggish pace. By high noon, Connor was exhausted. He closed the book he was currently reading on the Spanish Bureau during the Inquisition and rubbed his tired eyes. He didn’t find the subject matter boring or uninteresting, but he was in need of a break; some time to regain his focus as well as motivation. Stretching out his legs, Connor sauntered into the master bedchamber and thought about taking a quick nap.

However just as he sat down, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye: an open-faced notebook lying on the small table in the middle of the room. From a distance, it looked as though its owner had used it well with thick pages and various little things sticking out of them. But Connor didn’t recognize the book.

Just as he was about to pick it up, another thought occurred to him. Perhaps it belonged to Madeleine. Upon this realization, Connor slowly drew back his hand in hesitation. While the book was left out in the open for anyone to read, doing so would have still been an invasion of her privacy.

But then there was Connor’s own growing curiosity. What if there was something important written in that notebook he needed to know but Madeleine, for her own reasons, couldn’t tell him? Or would it have been better for the both of them if Connor remained blissfully ignorant?

Once he thought about it, he came to a decision despite his mixed feelings concerning it. Sitting down at the table, Connor began looking over the two open pages. On the first were hand-pressed flowers while the opposite page was filled with ink blotched descriptions relating to each one. Yet another hobby of Madeleine’s; she always liked to keep track of whatever interesting or unique plant she just so happened to come across.

Connor gently ran his fingertips along the flattened out petals of each flower, reading their possible medicinal properties. Madeleine sometimes preferred to write in French and Patwah, but neither language was completely unknown to him. He could understand without much difficulty. The sentences where she wrote quickly and rather messily offered more of a challenge.

Curiosity struck again when Connor carefully flipped the page; more wildflowers, big and small, dark and vibrant, along with a few brief journal entries. After reading each one, his smile, which started out as an amused smirk, grew larger. Some even caused him to let out a quiet chuckle.

_Connor’s hair has gotten much longer; it almost reaches down to his lower back. It is perfect for braiding and sometimes I find myself absentmindedly running my fingers through it, especially when we lay in bed together. I wonder if he will notice if I start braiding flowers into his hair the next time he takes a nap._

_I sometimes notice Connor still walking with a slight limp, even though he insists he no longer feels any pain. Despite this, his injury has improved tremendously. That gives me relief. I have never seen anyone else with a stronger will to keep living._

_Connor’s newest method of training recruits confuses me. The other day I saw a couple of them at Prudence and Warren’s farm trying to corral their pigs. I am not sure whom I feel worse for: the pigs or the recruits._

The next short entry was had a different tone to it; not lighthearted or amusing like the others, but instead plaintive.

_Some days I catch myself missing home, the one in Port Royal and the one in Boston. Not for what they were, but for what I wanted them to be. And for what I have left in them. I feel as though pieces of my parents have been abandoned in each town: my father in Port Royal and my mother in Boston. Perhaps this is my way of dealing with grief, even after so long._

Connor stopped there and slowly closed the notebook. The smile on his face was gone, replaced with a solemn look of empathy. That was when the guilt of reading Madeleine’s thoughts began to set in. _I will apologize to her when she returns home_ , he told himself, feeling nothing but shame. Then there was another issue at hand: how to tell her the truth without coming across as too forceful. Brutal honesty and bluntness may have been just two of Connor’s not so secret talents, but he never wanted to be like that with Madeleine.

A new thought occurred to him, a possible way to let her know in a subtle manner. Madeleine once showed him how to neatly press flowers but since then Connor never had the opportunity to try it himself. Now it was time for a little practice.

\--

By the time Madeleine came home, Connor was in bed, wide-awake and waiting for her. He lay on his side until he felt her drop down beside him, letting out an exasperated moan. She then lazily drooped one arm over his waist and pressed her body against his back. Connor smiled as they both fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning when Madeleine got out of bed, he stayed under the covers, sitting against the pillows, and watched in nervous anticipation as she picked her notebook up off the table. She flipped to the last page she left blank, staring at it in confusion.

“Something wrong?” Connor asked, waiting for her to realize what he did. In the meantime, he braced himself for any upset reaction.

“Oh, nothing.” After a brief pause, Madeleine sat back down on the bed with the book in her hand. “It is just… odd. The last time I used this notebook, this page was blank.” She leaned over, showing him the page: pressed near the corner were a couple small lightly coloured wildflowers. “I suppose my memory is a little faulty.”

“Actually… I…”

“Connor? Did you do this?”

“… yes.”

“Why do you look so flustered? These are beautiful!”

“Because I… it was open and I was only curious, so I read a few of your entries.”

“Oh… oh my goodness.” Without even looking at Connor, Madeleine buried her face into her hands.

“I am sorry, I understand if you are angry-“

“No, I’m not angry! Just incredibly embarrassed! You probably think I’m like a silly little girl.”

Connor let out a sigh of relief and gently pulled Madeleine closer to him while she still tried to hide her flushed face. “Not at all.”

Madeleine managed a shy “thank you.” A couple of cheek and forehead kisses were enough to help calm her down. As Connor held her tightly, he thought about starting his own personal journal.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions or comments concerning Madeleine, her story, and/or her relationship with Connor, please come talk to me about her at my blog aquilaofarkham.tumblr.com :D


End file.
